


Lost

by ewonder2001



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewonder2001/pseuds/ewonder2001
Summary: Daniel has withdrawn behind a wall of silence after the death of Sha're, but there is more to it than simple grief, as Sam discovers.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Het implied, no het sex. Infidelity.  


* * *

Silence. 

Sam was familiar with the silence of companionship, of old friends at ease with each other. She also knew, to her cost, the silence that followed from anger, bitterness and grief. Daniel Jackson withdrew behind a wall of such silence and it grew stronger and higher every day, till Sam could hardly remember what his voice sounded like. It had been so different in the old days, when Daniel would chatter at Jack until the colonel ordered him to shut up or gave him an affectionate cuff around the ears. 

TMI. "Too much information". They were the words that every academic feared to hear, and a common failing at the SGC. Or so the flyboys told her. Sam couldn't see it herself, since she never tired of bouncing ideas off Daniel till the air was practically crackling with electricity. But those sessions were a thing of the past, and she would have given anything to have Daniel come bouncing into her office, saying with that dry tone that barely hid his excitement, "Hey, Sam, look at this." 

Not any more. Not since Sha're died in his arms at the hands of Teal'c, while she and Jack looked on in utter helplessness. 

Daniel was grieving. On an intellectual level, Sam could understand that and even sympathise with it. But it didn't stop her from wanting the old Daniel back. She kept thinking that the next mission would be the one to capture his attention. That the next time they stepped through the stargate, Daniel would get all excited over some ruins or obscure writings, and turn to her with that sparkle in his eyes. 

Oddly, he had seemed all right at first. Daniel had gotten used to living without Sha're, had long been accustomed to a daily routine that relieved his loneliness and teased him with the faint hopes of reunion. The loss of hope that followed Sha're's death had been replaced by a new zeal, a determination to find and save her son, and unlock the secrets of the hated Goa'uld. But it didn't last. Each day, he seemed to grow quieter and sadder, till Sam and the others were tiptoeing around him and trying to find some way of reaching him. 

Sam enlisted the help of Robert Rothman, one of the on-base archaeologists who had studied under Daniel, setting him to search for any references to Kheb, no matter how obscure. According to the last thoughts of the dying Sha're, even as Ammaunet writhed inside her in terrible pain and the ribbon device shut itself down, the child was hidden at a secret place called Kheb. But Rothman couldn't find mention of it in the ancient texts, and had no more success than Sam in trying to lift Daniel's spirits and give him something, anything, to focus on. Every day, the light in Daniel's eyes died a little more, until Sam started to fear that she would step through the stargate one day and find that a lifeless corpse had followed her through and had toppled over dead on the other side. 

Strong arms came around her as she contemplated the wreck of a friend. 

"Not here," she snapped, digging Jack in the ribs with her elbow. It was a fine line they walked, skirting the no-fraternisation rules on- base while fucking like crazed minks out in the sunny suburbs of Colorado Springs. And occasionally on a PX-whatever, despite the risks. Jack O'Neill walked around with a hard-on that wouldn't quit, and sometimes Sam just couldn't say no. She knew that it was stupid, self-destructive behaviour, to take risks like that with other SGC personnel around. But some days, you just had to prove that you were still alive, no matter how much the universe seemed determined to have you otherwise. 

"The cameras are all off. I checked." Jack nuzzled her ear and she allowed the small intimacy. It was comforting to have him behind her like that, every inch of him pressed against her back, while she watched Daniel through the one-way glass. 

"What's he doing?" murmured Jack. 

"I don't know." She turned her head back for a quick kiss, before shoving him aside. "He's been working on the computer like that for hours." 

"Where are the tech guys?" 

"They left him to it. No one wants to be around him, these days." 

Sam felt Jack stiffen slightly and then deliberately relax each muscle one by one. 

"We do," he said mildly. 

"Do we?" 

There was a moment of silence, as they both watched the too-thin form hunched over the computer, frantically typing, stopping only to take an absent sip at coffee Sam knew was long gone cold. She'd been watching him for hours. Worried. Afraid. Unable to shake the growing dread that something terrible was about to happen, that Daniel was moving towards some kind of crisis. 

"I got tickets to the ballet." 

"You hate the ballet." Sam couldn't help grinning, knowing that he was manipulating her and wanting him to do it anyway. 

"Nah. Must be some other bonehead. Me, I love the ballet. And the dinner beforehand." 

And the sex afterwards, thought Sam. Sighing, she turned for a final glimpse of Daniel. 

"We could ask him to come with us," she said, hating the sound of irresolution in her own voice. 

"I've only got two tickets," said Jack, firmly, rubbing the back of her neck with a gentle hand. Sam leaned into his touch, watching Daniel's fingers fly across the keyboard, feeling Jack's dance lightly over her skin. 

"We'll take him out tomorrow night," added Jack, as she looked at him uncertainly. "We'll make him come." 

"Okay, colonel." 

"So formal, ma'am?" 

Sam flashed back to the last time she'd worn her dress blues. Sha're's funeral on Abydos. Daniel had looked like a waif, drowning in his ceremonial robes as sand drifted through the air and settled on his shrouded figure. Her own hair and face had turned white, as the hot breeze dusted her and dried her tears. 

"Let's go," she said abruptly, wanting suddenly to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

* * *

"Major Carter?" 

"Yes, Robert?" she asked. 

The shy archaeologist looked at her uncertainly, seeming to twitch as he hopped from foot to foot and concealed something behind his back. Rothman was an odd man, even for an academic, and Sam couldn't help wincing at his unease. She was one of the few military personnel that bridged the gap between geek and grunt, and always took the time to be patient and careful with the feelings of the civilian specialists. People like Rothman appreciated and respected her for it. 

Since Robert seemed unable or unwilling to do anything more than caper around her, Sam decided that she would have to do the talking. "What have you got there?" 

"Um." He cleared his throat nervously, flashed her a quick grimace that might have passed for a smile, and then pushed a small videocassette into her hands. 

"I've been studying this." 

Sam nodded her encouragement, fixing a bright smile on her face. 

"It's Daniel's footage from P3X445. I -- um -- didn't know what to do with it. So I thought of you. You'd know what to do. About it, that is." 

Rothman was making even less sense than usual. Casting her mind back, Sam had a brief memory of a cool, temperate climate and a ruined temple, mostly intact apart from one of its outer walls. If she was thinking of the right one, then it was probably the last mission that Daniel had shown much interest in. What was so special about that temple? Something about Mycenaean culture and the presence of the Goa'uld in ancient Greece. But nothing of any particular scientific merit, so she'd filed it away in her brain among the also-rans. Daniel's face popped into her mind, smiling broadly, talking about Homer and apples. Apples? 

Sam shivered. Random fruit recollections were getting her nowhere. 

"What's so important about P3X445?" 

But Rothman was gone, the corridor deserted. Glancing around surreptitiously to make sure that no one had noticed her abstraction, Sam strode off to her office, pocketing the tape for later. She had work to do.

* * *

"These mosaics suggest the presence of Goa'uld in the so-called heroic age of Greece, and corroborate certain passages in Homer that have led me to suspect such a thing in the past. The whole cycle of myths surrounding Troy and the war among the gods..." 

Sam sighed. Fucking Rothman. Three hours of tape she'd watched, as Daniel filmed bits of mosaic and frescos in the broken-down temple, talking all the while. At first she'd paid close attention but gradually had let the sound of his voice wash over her and lull her almost to sleep. A guilty pleasure. She loved to hear him rave like this; wished he'd do it now. She'd settle for hearing him read out his grocery list, if only it meant he'd been buying groceries and eating. 

"Hey Daniel." 

A new voice. That was unexpected. Sam sat up and began to take notice. The camera jumped as Daniel started, then panned to take in Jack O'Neill, lounging casually against a nearby wall. 

"Jack, get off that," yelped Daniel. "That fresco is irreplaceable." 

"Sure," said the colonel, straightening slowly and looming ever closer in the slightly shaky picture. 

"Put that thing down. Shit, Daniel, you look ready to drop. When did you last eat?" 

The camera settled on a plinth. Sam felt sure that Daniel thought he'd turned it off, but technology was not his strong point. She watched, heart beating slightly faster as the two men filled the frame. She shouldn't be watching this. It was a private moment between her friend and her lover, her team mates, and she shouldn't be violating their privacy. 

But Rothman wanted her to see it. 

"You'd know what to do." 

So she watched, feeling unaccountably nervous. Maybe Daniel was about to spill his guts, bleed all over Jack O'Neill for her enlightenment. 

"Daniel, you're shaking. Are you alright?" 

"Just tired Jack. Sometimes, I just don't know how I keep standing up. You know?" 

"I know Daniel." 

Sam had only ever heard Jack's voice like that in the bedroom. Deep and kind, with a warmth that melted her heart. It seemed to be having a similar effect on Daniel. His face was white and shocky-looking and he was leaning into Jack, resting his head on Jack's broad shoulder. 

"It's alright to grieve, Daniel." She could hear the words clearly, as Jack's arms came up and enfolded Daniel in a hug. She knew from experience how that felt, the security that even a USAF major could feel within the circle of that embrace. 

Jack was whispering in Daniel's ear but the video didn't pick up what he was saying. Daniel was nodding, their brows pressed together, his head moving up and down in time with Jack's. 

Louder now. "Shush, Daniel. I know what you need. Let me give you what you need." 

Sam's heart nearly stopped. Jack -- her Jack -- was kissing Daniel. Feathering light kisses over his jaw. Stroking his face with the pads of his fingers. And then kissing him on the lips, gently at first, but with more force as the seconds on the VDU ticked by. She knew what that sort of kiss felt like. How Jack used just his lips at first, brushing hers with hardly any pressure. Coaxing her to open up to him, so that he could flick her teeth with his tongue. Daniel was opening up now, she could see it on the screen, letting Jack's tongue caress the roof of his mouth and twine itself around his own tongue like a snake. She had never thought of it as a snake, when he was doing it to her. 

There was nothing erotic about this. Her blood wasn't heating at the sight of Jack's hands roaming up Daniel's sides, reaching around to feel his ass where she couldn't see it. But she did catch the way Daniel jerked forward and then relaxed into the touch, his eyes glazing over behind the wire rims of his glasses. The video picked up everything with excruciating clarity, as Jack made his trademark move on Daniel's chest, sucking on a nipple while easing his friend's pants down over his hips. 

Daniel's erection sprang up and hit Jack on the leg. Okay, so that was a departure from the Jack O'Neill routine she'd come to know and love. How would Jack deal with that development? 

Ohmigod. Never in a million years did she expect to see Jack sink to his knees and take Daniel in his mouth. Swallowing him whole, bobbing up and down, really working at it. Jack was good at this. It looked like he might have had a lot of practice. 

Sam felt an icy hand inside her stomach, clenching harder as the tape wound slowly on. Jack was fumbling with his own pants as he sucked Daniel's cock, pushing them down over his thighs at the same time as he extracted something from the pockets. Sam, her heart racing, pressed closer to the VDU screen to see if she could make out what it was. 

That son of a bitch. He had a tube of lube in his goddamn pocket. He'd planned this all along. Seduction aforethought. 

Sam sank back in her chair, her own panting not enough to drown out the sound of Daniel's gasps. Eyes fixed on his white face, Sam watched as Jack coaxed his dazed partner, crooning gently in his ear, Daniel's abandoned cock bobbing in the musty temple air. Jack was turning Daniel around, strong hands on his hips, nipping at his ear and mouthing sweet nothings. 

There were tears on Sam's cheeks, mirroring the ones she saw on Daniel's. Jack was lubing himself up now. "It's gonna be alright, Daniel, you'll see. I'm gonna make it all go away. Nothing but pleasure, buddy. No more pain. This is gonna make you feel so good." 

There was a loud sob as Jack entered Daniel, easing his way in with slow, gentle care, but whether it was herself or Daniel who made the noise, Sam could not have said. She couldn't see Daniel's face any more, only Jack's, his face glowing in the flickering light of the camera. Sam couldn't read Jack's expression. Did he look at *her* like that when he fucked her? Passion, yes, she could see that in his taut expression, the features almost blank with an animal-like concentration. But was there love, caring, concern? She didn't know and didn't care. It was too painful to search for their traces on his face. 

Jack must have been moving inside Daniel but Sam could hardly detect it. The slow, gentle fuck lasted about twenty minutes, according to the time display on the video. Sam made herself watch every second of it. Jack turned Daniel to brace him more securely against the wall, his arms an iron band around Daniel's chest, holding him upright despite the pressure of Jack's thrusts. She could see Daniel's face then, the tracks of tears a silver line on the screen, as his face twitched with every stir of Jack's cock inside his guts. He was smiling. Sam had seen such smiles on the faces of the dead and dying. 

"You're not alone Daniel. I'm here with you, in you, Daniel. I'll get you through this." 

Jack was picking up the pace a little now, sweat dripping onto Daniel's hair as he held him tight and fucked him. His hips were moving faster, thrusting harder, making Daniel grunt each time Jack's hips banged against his buttocks. 

"Jack." 

Daniel spoke for the first time, his lips barely moving. Sam strained to hear him, staring at lips slightly swollen from Jack's kisses. 

"Not alone, Jack. I can feel you inside me." 

The tears were falling faster now. Jack's face was still blank with passion, as Sam and Daniel wept their grief and loss. Jack was getting ready to come, she knew all the signs. His lips were twitching, trying not to shout the O'Neill triumph out loud, as he started to ram Daniel with short, hard jabs that would have lifted the younger man off his feet had Jack's strong arms not pinned him in place. 

There was an obscene beauty to it all. Sam watched, riveted, as sweat overran Daniel's tears, his lips stretched wide in a rictus of joy or pain, she couldn't tell. Sam wanted to be there, with a desperate fire that burned despite the icy fingers in her guts. But whether she wanted to be the one underneath Jack O'Neill, or the one bringing this kind of pleasure to Daniel, she just didn't know. 

Jack was reaching around now, stroking Daniel's cock with slippery fingers, bringing them both off at the same time. Daniel's erection was too far out of frame for Sam to see his orgasm, but she could tell when it happened, his soft gasp and gentle shudders milking Jack's cock of its come. Jack's climax was clear on his face, eyes hot, mouth fixed in a feral snarl, thrusting against Daniel as if he wanted to pound him into the wall. 

And then it was all over. Jack eased himself out and was buttoning up seconds later, patting Daniel on the shoulder in an almost impersonal way as he leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. Smearing his precious fresco with sweat and mucus, eyes unseeing. 

"See, Daniel? Everything's gonna be all right. Now, gotta go and check on Teal'c and Carter, okay buddy?" 

Jack's voice was redolent with satisfaction. Sam wanted to slap that smug smirk off his mouth and make it bleed. He couldn't see the wave of desolation that passed over Daniel's face, the lines of grief etched even deeper around his trembling mouth. 

A buddy fuck. Keeping up team morale. Making sure that Daniel stayed a part of SG-1 and didn't let the side down. Was that what this was all about? Could Jack really be that much of an asshole? Sam could see the thoughts playing across Daniel's face as clearly as if he'd spoken them aloud. 

Jack saw none of it. He gave Daniel another perfunctory slap on the shoulder and sauntered off. He might as well have been whistling, his body language radiating that "just got laid and all's well with the world" contentment that she'd put there a time or two herself. 

Daniel's ravaged face was the last thing Sam saw, getting larger and larger on the screen, before the world turned upside down and the picture disappeared. Daniel must have thrown the camera very hard, as it was designed to keep filming under the most adverse of conditions. Sam remembered the smashed mosaic on the temple floor, and Daniel, white-lipped, explaining that it had been like that for centuries. She'd taken his word for it. He was, after all, the team's archaeologist. Who else would know?

* * *

It was minutes, maybe hours, later when the knock came on her door. Sam was lost in thought, staring sightlessly at the blank screen. P3X445. That had been a month ago. Daniel had become increasingly withdrawn since then, avoiding Jack, dodging all of them really, whenever he could. Had they fucked again? Was Jack busy cementing Daniel to the team with his sperm, doing him up the ass regularly as a comfort and tie? It seemed so stupid and macho, so utterly like her early and discarded view of Jack, that Sam wanted to search him out and start hitting him. Only problem was, if she started hitting him she might never be able to stop. 

Or had they only done it the once? Had Daniel been looking for love and comfort, and turned away because he found only testosterone and lust instead? She tried to calculate the opportunities but it was hopeless. She and Jack had done it offworld since then with no one else knowing, so why couldn't he be fucking Daniel as well? 

But no. Daniel did not have the look of one who'd been taking comfort anywhere, even such as was to be found in a buddy's arms. And he didn't show the slow murderous rage that Sam was starting to feel, just thinking about it. 

And where did she fit into all of this? Samantha Carter, team mate and lover, junior officer and friend. Maybe Jack was a serial colonel, putting it to everyone under his command, overwhelming them with a veneer of charisma and fake charm while he got the best out of them. Performance management, O'Neill style. But was she the other woman, or Daniel the other man, both of them Jack's dirty little secrets? 

"Hey, Carter. Fancy some lunch?" 

The knocking had stopped. Her door was open now, and Colonel O'Neill was perched in the doorway, leaning against it and sporting a friendly grin. 

He never saw the right hook coming. He felt it though. And the kick in the ribs, delivered as Sam stepped over him and walked away. 

"Fuck, Carter," Jack wheezed, struggling to his knees. "What the fuck's going on?" 

Sam was spared the trouble of replying, or explaining her assault on a superior officer, by a strident interruption. The alarm klaxon began to wail, rending the air and forcing them both out into the corridor at a swift jog, Jack breathing hard and clutching his ribs. 

"Unauthorised gate use in progress," proclaimed a voice over the loudspeaker. 

Sam sprinted to the gate control room, just in time to see the emergency blast doors slide into place, sealing off the gateroom from all traffic. Ignoring Jack's noisy demands to be told what was going on, she slid into a seat at the nearest terminal and began punching up data. General Hammond joined them a minute later, as the klaxon continued to blare, and Sam and Sergeant Davis tried to find out what was going on inside their gateroom. 

"What's happening, Major Carter?" asked the general, looking smooth and unruffled as always. 

"It's Daniel, sir," said Jack, gesturing at the monitor. 

They could see Daniel by the gate controls, punching in co-ordinates and then waiting for the wormhole to form. 

"Dr Jackson, stand down immediately," ordered Hammond over the loudspeaker. 

"Chevron five encoded," reported Davis. Sam's fingers danced across the keyboard, trying to override the gate controls, but the programme had locked her out. 

"Someone's sabotaged the override system, sir," she said, trying to find a way of getting around the computer's flat refusal to do what she wanted it to. 

"Can't imagine who that could have been," said Jack, grabbing the microphone from General Hammond. "Daniel, stop whatever it is you're doing and open the doors. I mean it, Daniel. That's an order." 

The solitary figure on the screen gave no evidence of having heard him. Jack swore softly and tried another tack. "C'mon, Daniel. It's me. Jack. You don't want to do this. Open the doors and let's talk." 

"Colonel Makepeace, what's your status?" Sam heard the general say into his telephone receiver. 

Considering his slight frown, it was no great surprise when the general reported that the marines needed at least another half hour to cut through the blast doors. 

"Chevron six encoded," said Davis. 

"Where's he trying to go? What's the address?" asked Hammond. 

"We can't tell, sir," said Sam. "We're getting base information that tells us the gate is dialling, but not the co-ordinates. He's done a good job of covering his tracks. I didn't think Daniel would know how to do that." 

"Hey, ya snip a few wires here and there, anyone could do it," said Jack. He shrugged when they all turned to glare at him. If he detected anything more murderous in Sam's expression than the others', he didn't show it. She massaged her sore knuckles and watched the screen. 

"Don't do it, Daniel. Please," she whispered into the microphone. 

Daniel looked up at the camera when he heard her speaking. He was wearing his combat fatigues and carrying a zat gun, a heavy pack propped alongside him, against the ramp. Wherever he was going, Daniel meant business. 

"Goodbye, Sam." There was no sound but she could read the words on his lips. Watching him on the screen, she had a sudden image in her mind of his face on another screen as Jack had fucked him, his eyes wide and sightless, mouth stretched in a silent rictus of grief. 

"Chevron seven encoded," said Davis, running his hands through his close-cropped hair. "Nothing we can do to stop it, sir." 

"Christ, Danny, can't we at least talk about this? Where the fuck do you think you're going?" 

Daniel hefted his gun and pack, squared his shoulders, and stepped resolutely onto the ramp. 

Sam had thought she'd cried all her tears in her office earlier, so fresh moisture on her cheeks was very embarrassing. To cry in front of a general and a colonel. It was unheard of. 

"Dr Jackson, I am ordering you to stand down immediately." 

Daniel jerked noticeably at Hammond's words but it didn't slow his steady pace up the ramp towards the wormhole. He didn't look back as he stepped through the gate and was gone. 

Daniel Jackson was gone, and nobody knew where or why. 

Maybe one person knew why. 

Sam never took her eyes off Jack O'Neill's back as he stalked out of the control room. 

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. 

"Major?" General Hammond was looking at her wide-eyed. 

"Nothing sir. Just going to see if I can find out what the co- ordinates were. The information must be in the system somewhere." 

"That's your top priority. But I want to see the remaining members of SG-1 in my office at 20:00 hours. I plan to get to the bottom of this." 

Sam turned back to her keyboard and started to run the diagnostic programmes. 

Where are you Daniel? Where would you go?


End file.
